


Take Notes On Me, I'll Play Notes For You

by JuliaJekyll



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: And I see no reason to break that pattern, Because all my Hannibal fics have Hannigram, But Also Background Hannigram, But Beverly likes her anyway, Crushes, F/F, Freddie is a nosy gossip, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Language, M/M, Mostly Femslash, Musicians, Oral Sex, Secret Crush, Slash, Vaginal Fingering, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJekyll/pseuds/JuliaJekyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Beverly are musicians, and a certain music scene blogger is interested in getting the scoop on Will...but Beverly can't help but want to find out more about HER, instead. Meanwhile, a certain doctor also takes an interest in Will, of a rather different character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Talk Over Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is what I'm calling a "Shipsperiment"...an experiment with a new ship, that is. I love both Beverly and Freddie, and I think it'd be really cool if they got together. Enjoy and don't forget to comment! 
> 
> P.S. My description of Bev's feelings toward her instrument are based on my own feelings toward fanfiction! 
> 
> -Julia

With what she hoped looked like calculated idleness, but was really more like exhausted distraction, Beverly Katz stirred her coffee, staring at the swirls created by her spoon. Living her double life—crime scene investigator by day, musician by night—was starting to take enough of a toll on her that she had begun to rely on black dark roast to keep her going, despite the fact that she'd have vastly preferred a hazelnut latte or something else more pleasantly flavored. 

She cringed her way through another sip and glanced down at her violin case, which rested at her feet. She gave a small smile that was strained at the edges from tiredness, but nonetheless genuine. The ability to perform with her instrument, to make it sing and know that she was lifting other people's spirits, if only just a little, by doing so, made it all worthwhile. Considering how ugly things could get at her job--the so-called "Chesapeake Ripper" had struck again just the previous week--she needed a little beauty in her life, and she was always able to find it in her music. 

Beverly was seriously starting to consider giving in and putting some cream in her coffee when the door to the little shop opened and her good friend Will Graham entered. He looked a little frazzled, his blue eyes darting about wildly, then filling with immense relief when they alighted on Beverly. Quickly, Will made his way to her table, stumbling slightly but catching himself before he fell, and then dropping gracelessly into the chair across from her. 

"Save me, Bev," he groaned, running a large, callused hand through his brunette curls, then trying and failing to shake them back into place. He was a handsome young man and a gifted singer, not to mention a brilliant teacher, but when he wasn't performing or lecturing he always seemed a trifle awkward. 

"From?" Bev queried, as she compromised with herself and ripped open a packet of Sweet-N-Low from the small ceramic bowl on the table. 

Will rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and slunk down in his seat. "She's after me again," he said quietly, as if he were afraid he might summon Her if he spoke too loudly. 

Beverly's heart did a little skip, but she let nothing show in her voice when she said "Who? The blogger?" 

"Who the hell else?" Irritably, Will began drumming his fingers on the tabletop, making Beverly's coffee ripple in her mug. "She's been following me ever since Brian let it slip that I used to work for the FBI." As he spoke, his voice dipped lower and lower until he was nearly mouthing the last few syllables. 

Beverly sighed. "I thought her blog was supposed to be about the  _music,"_ she said, wondering vaguely whether she was trying too hard to sound ignorant. The truth was that she'd read every article on the blog at least three times over, and she knew how positively juicy they could be. The author wasn't at all shy about what she published or who she wrote about, and she was clearly willing to go the distance, considering the fact that she'd written articles on acts she'd see all the way across the country in cities like Los Angeles and Portland. 

"Not  _hers,"_ Will said. "She found out about some sax player in Chicago who lied to her boyfriend about their baby being his, published it on that stupid fucking website, and that's  _tame_ as far as she's concerned. Imagine what she'd..." he trailed off, but Beverly knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking. If given the opportunity, Freddie Lounds would find a lot to write about Will and his history as a profiler. 

"Well," Beverly said, lying a reassuring hand atop Will's, "if she asks me, I'll pretend I've never heard of you." 

"Won't work," Will replied bitterly. "She knows we're friends. I wouldn't be surprised if she approached you tonight. I know for a fact that she's in town." 

 _Oh, please,_ Beverly thought, hurriedly taking another sip of coffee to mask the blush that she could feel warming her face. She would like nothing better than to be questioned by Freddie Lounds, to have those hard, determined eyes focused on her and those wide-open ears hanging on her every word, though of course she wouldn't tell Will that. She actually rather wished that she were more interesting so that Freddie would want to talk to her about herself, instead of about Will, but she supposed that when a blogger looked for someone interesting, it was more logical to turn to a moody male singer than a girl with an unassuming smile and an electric violin. 

Beverly had meant what she'd said. She would give Freddie no information about Will if she did ask. After all, her friendship with Will was older and stronger than her secret, fluttery infatuation with the blogger, but she still craved a reason to talk to that gorgeous, nosy, redheaded bitch. 

"Look on the bright side," she said to Will, putting her mug back down after a longer sip than usual--the taste of the coffee had been much improved with the addition of the sugar. "You might have to deal with Lounds-" 

 _"Don't say her name!"_ Will hissed. 

Beverly rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Will, she's a blogger, not a fucking phantom." 

"Same thing, when you get right down to it," Will muttered. "Both creepy, both popping up in places they don't belong, both annoying." 

"I think you're thinking of poltergeists," Beverly said, "but that's not the point. As I was saying, you may have to deal with  _Ms. Freddie Lounds,_ but you might also get to see that doctor you like so much." She gave him a little wink. 

Will blushed deeply. The previous week, a well-dressed man with the face of an angel had approached him to compliment his performance, and Will had ended up sitting with him for the rest of the night. 

Beverly leaned closer to Will. "What was his name again?" she asked, delighted with herself for finding a route for this conversation to go that was less likely to result in her accidentally divulging the truth about her stupid, mad crush on Freddie Lounds. 

"Hannibal Lecter," Will replied softly, a combination of affection and sheepishness in his eyes as his lips stretched into an involuntary smile. 

Beverly rolled her tongue, making a purring noise. "Sounds exotic," she remarked. 

"He's got the sexiest goddamned accent I have ever heard," Will sighed. 

Beverly smiled. One thing she'd always liked about her friendship with Will was how frank they could be about their love lives. He was gay and she was a lesbian, so there was zero chance of romantic or sexual tension developing between them, which made for great openness, at least in most cases. Freddie Lounds was an exception, since Will couldn't bloody stand her...and for good reason, Beverly had to admit. 

"Going to sing something special for him tonight?" Beverly teased, finishing off her coffee. She felt more energized now, both from the coffee and from the anticipation of the evening. The club she and Will frequented always managed to draw some pretty amazing performers, and she was excited to see them. 

Will gave a crooked grin that looked quite charming on him. "'Defying Gravity'", he admitted. "Done to death, I know, but I thought I'd show off a little." 

"Never hurts," grinned Beverly. "You want a coffee to go? I'll buy you one." 

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Bev." They stood up and went to the cash register to get Will's coffee, and Beverly allowed her mind to zip back to the subject of Freddie Lounds. 

She'd been trying to work out how best to approach her for weeks ,but the idea of Freddie approaching  _her_ instead was quite appealing, even if it would only be to ask about Will. 

Beverly smiled to herself. She was sure she'd be able to divert _that_ line of questioning. 


	2. Incoming

Perched atop a stool at the music club's bar, Beverly's feet didn't quite touch the ground, so she swung them slightly to the rhythm she was humming. Her shoes, a pair of black wedges she'd bought just the previous week, made a satisfying sound when they hit against the rung of the seat, which she used to help herself keep the beat. She'd ordered a rum and coke but had only drank a sip of it so far and was just stirring it around with one of the little straws that had come in it as she went through her violin piece in her mind.

This was her habit every night before she played. She had never been able to commit specific notes to memory, so she did have to look at her sheet music when she played—hence the manila folder resting on the bar at her side—but she knew her rhythms. She knew how the music dipped and swayed, where the dynamics changed, where the tempo sped up or slowed down. She always had a perfect vision of the song in her mind, and her constant quest as a violinist was to match that perfection. As good as she was, she could never quite seem to manage it.

Beverly turned her attention to the stage when she was finished giving her piece its last mental run-through, just as the emcee introduced a girl whom Beverly had seen play once before: an excellent oboe player named Kelly who was studying music at university. As the young blonde put her lips to her instrument and began a complex piece full of notes that seemed to flow like a river, Beverly cast her eyes around looking for Will. They'd come in together, but Will had almost immediately left her for the back of the house where some of the musicians were already waiting their turns to go on, clearly trying to hide from Freddie Lounds. Beverly had rolled her eyes and gone to sit at the bar, keen both to watch the other musicians and, though of course she hadn't told Will so, to see the very same Freddie Lounds whom her friend was trying so hard to avoid.

She ran her teeth over her lower lip as she thought about the blogger, her eyes now seeking a different target as the oboe music faded to the background of her mind. She took another sip of her rum and coke.

“Excuse me,” said a male voice to her left, interrupting Beverly's thoughts. She jumped slightly and turned in the direction of the voice, at which point she beheld none other than Will's Dr. Lecter, dressed in a deep gray suit over an eggshell blue shirt and deep navy tie. He was older than Will by a good ten years, but even Beverly, who had never looked at a man with anything resembling sexual interest in her life, caught her breath slightly at how beautiful he was.

She cleared her throat. “Hello,” she said.

“I'm sorry if I startled you,” Dr. Lecter apologized. “I recognize you from last week; you played quite a stirring piece.” He nodded toward her violin case, which rested on the floor.

“Oh, thank you,” Beverly said, thinking that Will had been quite right about the doctor's accent and feeling herself blush. “I'm Beverly Katz.”

“Hannibal Lecter.” He shook her hand, then gave her a warm smile, which made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I hope I'm not being too forward,” he said, “but I believe you are acquainted with William Graham?”

Beverly felt excitement pool in her stomach on her friend's behalf. He was asking her about Will, which had to mean he liked him. “Yes,” she replied. “We're close friends.”

“Do you happen to know where he is?” Dr. Lecter asked. “He told me he would be here tonight.”

Beverly smiled. She would definitely be telling Will about this later. “He's here,” she said. “Backstage, I think.” She lowered her voice a bit. “Trying to stay away from a certain blogger, I imagine. But I'm sure he'll be very pleased to see you, Dr. Lecter.”

“Ah, yes,” Dr. Lecter said with a hint of annoyance. “Ms. Lounds. I know the one. I just passed her on the way in. She was talking to a member of one of the bands, I believe.”

“She's here?” Beverly asked, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm, judging from Dr. Lecter's surprised expression.

“Yes,” the doctor replied. “Do you know her?”

“I...no, not very well, no. I mean, I know _of_ her, but I wouldn't say that I know her... _personally._ ” Beverly could feel her face getting redder at her complete lack of eloquence and cleared her throat again. “Yeah...Will really isn't fond of her.”

The corner of Dr. Lecter's mouth twitched. “So I gather. I do hope he'll come down after his performance. I look forward to seeing him again.”

“I'm quite sure he feels the same,” Beverly said.

“Are you?” Dr. Lecter's dark eyes held genuine interest and maybe even a bit of insecurity. Beverly's heart did a little skip. She loved Will dearly, and she really wanted him to be with someone who felt passionately for him. Dr. Lecter's apparent interest was making her happier by the moment. “Yes,” she said with confidence. “He really enjoyed your company last time.”

Dr. Lecter smiled more brightly, and it was a beautiful sight, but Beverly was distracted from it by what, for her, was an even more beautiful sight: the bright red curls of Freddie Lounds appearing in the open doorway of the club. Beverly's eyes zoomed from the doctor to Freddie as though pulled by a magnet, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She had to talk to her tonight. She had to.

She turned back to the doctor. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Lecter, but please excuse me. I have to have a word with...someone before I go on.”

“It was a pleasure on my end as well, Ms. Katz. I look forward to hearing you play again.” Beverly gave him a final nod and watched him for a moment as he walked away, then turned back in Freddie's direction, fully intending to go over to her.

She didn't need to, however. Because when she turned, she saw that the blogger was already making a beeline straight for her, her blue-green eyes unmistakeably locked on Beverly. Beverly relaxed back onto her stool. Trying to look casual, she took another sip of her drink and watched Freddie with what she hoped looked like detached coolness rather than the mildy pathetic eagerness she truly felt.

This promised to be interesting. 


	3. Sizing Up

_Alright, Bev. You are a dark-eyed, raven-haired beauty, and you are seductive as hell. Also, these shoes make your legs look hot as fuck._

It was a brief pep talk, but it would do. Beverly was well aware that acting nervous wouldn't attract Freddie Lounds. She had to be confident, no matter how jittery she felt. So she crossed her legs, sipped her drink, and acted for all the world like she hadn't noticed Freddie until the other woman was right beside her.

“Beverly Katz?”

Beverly turned and schooled her face into an expression of pleased (but not too pleased) surprise. “Ah, hello, Ms. Lounds. Here to critique? I'm on in-” she checked her watch “-twenty minutes, which gives me just enough time to butter you up with something to drink.”

“I'm not much for butter.” Freddie clambered onto the stool beside Beverly with an adorably failed attempt at grace made necessary by her rather small stature.

“What do you like, then? You strike me as a vodka girl. A bloody Mary, maybe?”

“Is that a redhead joke?” Freddie asked. Her tone was disdainful, but the mere fact that she was teasing, even a little bit, made Beverly smile.

“It wasn't intended as one,” Beverly replied, “but now that you mention it, I suppose it could be.”

“Either way, I'm not here to talk about drinks. Or my hair. And since you've only got twenty minutes-”

Beverly cut her off. “So, what do you want to drink?”

“I don't want a drink.”

“Oh, come on, at least get a virgin Sangria without all the fruit and shit.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow. “You mean a Sprite?”

“One Sprite for the lady, please!” Beverly called to the bartender, who nodded.

Freddie gave a little roll of her eyes. “Alright, that was fun. Now, Ms. Katz-”

Beverly waved a hand dismissively. “Please, call me Bev.”

Freddie looked mildly annoyed at being interrupted again, which pleased Beverly. She'd determined that the best way to get this girl interested—assuming, of course, that she was into chicks to start with, which Beverly as of yet had no reason to think wasn't true—was to keep her off-balance.

Freddie shrugged. “If you like. Bev. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.”

 _Ah, the oft-repeated phrase of the driven reporter,_ Beverly thought. The steely determination in Freddie's blue eyes told Bev that she would be asking the questions whether Bev minded or not, so she simply leaned back as far as the backless stool she was sitting on would allow and shifted her legs to cross one ankle elegantly over the other. She didn't think she imagined the way Freddie briefly glanced down at her legs as she did so.

“Go ahead,” she said, meeting the reporter's eyes with a cool gaze of her own. She wasn't exactly sure what the other woman's endgame was, but she was fairly certain she knew the rules, and damned if she couldn't play, too. The fact that she wanted to grab Freddie Lounds and kiss the life out of her, tangling her hands in those glorious red curls, didn't mean she had to make her job easy.

Freddie didn't miss a beat after Bev's brief consent. “Do you know Will Graham?” she asked. She was playing a bit dumb there, of course; she was well aware that Beverly Katz knew Will Graham, but a good journalist, much like a good lawyer, always starts off with the easy questions.

“Hm.” Beverly made a show of studying her nails—unpainted and rather blunt at the moment—and considering the question. “Not sure I recognize the name. Who is he? Maybe you can jog my memory a bit.” She flicked her eyes at Freddie, a little challenge.

Freddie narrowed her eyes. “William Graham, lecturer, singer, and from what I understand, former FBI profiler?”

Beverly shrugged. “Well, if you know all that, what are you asking me for?”

Freddie blinked twice, then glanced over her shoulder before leaning in, closer to Beverly. Beverly didn't even think before she leaned in as well, catching the scent of gardenia perfume and noticing the insanely attractive play of Freddie's red hair against her pale skin. As the bartender set the Sprite down on the bar in front of the blogger with a light _bang_ , Beverly realized that her mouth was hanging open slightly and quickly clamped it shut. A brief smirk of satisfaction flitted across Freddie's beautiful face, and Beverly mentally cursed herself for being so obvious. She'd probably just destroyed whatever allure she'd been building up.

Freddie's lips were almost at Bev's ear now. Bev felt a twinge of arousal in her abdomen as Freddie opened her mouth, breathing softly against her cheekbone for a moment before saying “I hear he's something of a junkie, too. Makes sense, doesn't it? All that work and all these performances?”

“He is not!” Bev nearly shouted, sitting bolt upright and moving away from Freddie. Where on earth had  _that_ information come from?

Freddie smiled, her lips rolling back slightly to show her teeth. A predator ready to close her jaws around a juicy story. “Ah,” she said, “so you _do_ know him. People don't angrily defend people they don't know.”

For a moment, Bev could only stare stupidly. Freddie laughed, then reached over and picked up her Sprite, taking a couple of quiet sips.

Bev leaned in again. “I know him,” she conceded. “He's my friend, and you'd better not be publishing that bullshit.”

“Tell me what I want to know, and I won't have to.” Freddie fished a piece of ice out of her glass and popped it into her mouth, sucking on it with—was that a seductive look?

God, Bev hoped so.

“Besides,” Freddie went on, “if I wanted to publish pure bullshit, I could come up with better than that. The junkie story has been done to death in the music scene, you know?”

“Not really, but I'm sure you do.” Bev licked her lips, never taking her eyes from Freddie's. She saw the other woman swallow. 

 _Done to death._ The words reminded Bev of what Will had said earlier about his song. She leaned toward Freddie again. “There is one thing I'll tell you.”

“Oh?”

Beverly shifted her stool so that she could be as close as she'd been yet. This time, she was the one who whispered into Freddie's ear. “Will,” she said, “is singing 'Defying Gravity' tonight.” She leaned back and grinned at Freddie, who looked put out. “Well?” she said. “Aren't you going to jump on your blog and type it?” She checked her watch again. “You've got a five minute jump on the competition!”

“Fuck you, Bev,” snarled Freddie, taking the lime off the rim of her glass and sucking on that, too.

Beverly shrugged. “If you like. Freddie.”

Freddie's eyebrows shot up. “Was _that_ a redhead joke?”

Bev frowned in confusion. “No. How would it be?”

“Well. If I fucked you, you'd be able to find out whether it's my natural color or not.”

Beverly bit her lip. Now they were getting somewhere! Her stomach filled with proverbial butterflies, but she managed to keep her voice casual. “Something to keep in mind,” she said.

“You work for the FBI, don't you?”

“I do,” Bev said, not missing a beat. “But Will doesn't. That's all you're getting out of me.”

“Hm,” said Freddie. She looked like she was about to say something else, but then the emcee announced Will's name, and she perked up like an animal that had scented prey. “We'll see about that,” she directed at Bev, then slid to the floor, grabbing her drink as she went. “Thanks for the Sprite,” she threw over her shoulder as she pushed through several people to get closer to the stage.

Bev took a long sip of her rum and coke. “Indeed we will,” she said under her breath, then turned her attention to Will, who had just stepped up to the microphone.


	4. Defying Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!   
> I haven't updated this fic in a while; I've been rather preoccupied. I wrote a couple other fics and then got tied up with moving from the United States to Russia for a job, coupled with a bit of writer's block. But anyhow, here is the next installment! Enjoy!   
> Song text comes, of course, from Wicked's Defying Gravity!

During Will's sound check, Beverly cast her eyes around the audience, looking for Hannibal Lecter. She spotted him, not at a table as she'd have expected, but standing in the crowd. From Bev's angle, she could see him in profile, and she wondered again how one person—a man, no less—could be so beautiful. No wonder Will was so enamored. Had Bev been anything other than a dyed-in-the-wool lesbian, she thought, she might actually have tried to seduce him herself. As it was, though, she just smiled at how intently he was watching Will, as if there was nothing on earth he'd rather do than witness every movement the young singer made.

Freddie Lounds, on the other hand, was fumbling with something in her purse, clearly trying to be subtle about it, an endeavor which might have succeeded has Bev not been seeking her in particular.. Bev squinted, leaning forward, and realized what it was: a camera. She rolled her eyes. The bitch. There was no way Will was going to want this performance to be on video. That was part of the reason why he performed at this club specifically: recording was not allowed.

With a sigh, Beverly hopped off her bar stool. She put her drink on the bar and picked up her violin case, then began maneuvering through the crowd with a series of “sorry”'s and “excuse me”'s. She saw Dr. Lecter throw her a puzzled glance out of the corner of her eye, but she just grinned at him before installing herself behind and slightly to the left of Freddie.

“Not keen on rules, are we, Ms. Lounds?” she asked in a low voice, directly into the other woman's ear.

Freddie whipped around, narrowing her blue eyes. “Not really, but what are you referring to in this particular instance?” She had to raise her voice a bit as the initial bars of Will's song began to play.

Beverly cocked an eyebrow and nodded at the camera, which was still clutched in Freddie's hands.

Freddie rolled her eyes. “Relax; it doesn't record anything. It's just for pictures.”

“Will wouldn't care for that, either,” Bev hissed.

“Shy, is he?” Freddie asked as Will began to sing.

_Something has changed within me..._

_Something is not the same..._

“A bit,” Bev replied.

“Why's that? Bad experience? Jumpy due to a previous occupation? Seen some things not fit for mortal eyes?”

Bev groaned. “Always the journalist, aren't you?”

“Naturally.” As if to prove it, Freddie raised her camera and snapped a quick picture of Beverly.

_I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game._

Bev blinked in surprise. “What did you do that for?”

_Too late for second guessing_

Freddie shrugged. “No reason. Would you like to take one of me as well? It'll last longer than staring at me.”

_Too late to go back to sleep_

Freddie leaned close to Bev. “Staring, like you've been doing since I came in.”

_It's time to trust my instincts,_

_Close my eyes and leap!_

Beverly felt herself flush. “You noticed.”

“I notice everything. Including Will's suitor over there.” She jerked her head subtly in Dr. Lecter's direction.

_It's time to try defying gravity..._

A few whoops went up from the crowd as Will broke into the meat of the song. His blue eyes were full of confidence, his gaze moving over the audience, both in touch with and somehow removed from them, in that special other place one could only reach by performing.

Bev glanced at Hannibal Lecter again. The man's gaze was still rooted to Will.

_I think I'll try defying gravity..._

“Lecter's an interesting one,” Freddie said to Bev. “Will's going to have his hands full with him.”

“You know him?” Bev exclaimed, surprised.

_Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity_

“Yeah,” Freddie replied. “He can't stand me.”

“Truth be told, neither can Will.”

_And you won't bring me down._

Freddie shrugged, as if being disliked was nothing new to her and hardly bore mentioning. “The lot of a professional gossiper,” she remarked. “ _You_ don't seem to mind me, though.”

“Well, you haven't tried to write an article about me yet.”

Freddie smiled. “Yet,” she repeated. Raising her camera, she took a photo of Will onstage.

They stood without speaking to each other for the rest of Will's performance. Beverly tingled with anticipation as the song rose to its familiar crescendo, Will meeting the challenge with his usual passion and fervor.

_So, if you care to find me_

_Look to the western sky_

_As someone told me lately, everyone deserves a chance to fly!_

_I'm defying gravity, and you won't bring me down!_

Bev broke out into a huge smile when Will finished the song, succeeding magnificenly at the high, belting notes that made up the finale. She applauded and cheered for her friend, briefly forgetting about Freddie standing so close to her and wishing she knew how to wolf-whistle like some of the audience members were doing. Freddie applauded with minimally enthusiastic politeness, not even cracking a grin. Bev wondered how she could write so much about music if she didn't allow it to move her. Bev glanced over at Hannibal Lecter again, and saw that his eyes, by contrast, were brimming over with admiration and affection. Her heart stirred a bit. The man really did have feelings for Will.

“Hey,” Bev nearly shouted in Freddie's ear. “I'm on next, if you'd like to stick around.”

Freddie didn't respond initally, but when Bev, heaving her violin case, leaned close enough to let her lips brush Freddie's hair, whispering, “Please do stick around”, she could have sworn she saw the other woman shiver.


	5. Waltz

Despite the fact that there was no one around to see it or notice it, Beverly was embarassed by the fact that her hands were trembling slightly as she opened her violin case and drew out her instrument. It was as if she could still feel Freddie Lounds's whispered words against her ear, the slight brush of her hair against her skin. Why did the woman have to be so fucking gorgeous? And why did she have to be so much fun to banter with? Bev closed her eyes briefly as she tuned each string of her violin, breathing deeply, drawing reassuring thoughts from the familiar feeling of the instrument in her hands. She hoped with all her heart that Freddie would still be in the audience when she stepped onto the stage. She wasn't sure whether she'd be able to keep the disappointment out of her performance otherwise.

She wanted Freddie to hear her music; wanted to share that part of herself with the other woman. She wondered if the reporter ever looked beyond the aspects of other people that she could use. Surely she did; she was, after all, only human. And Bev thought—no, she _knew_ , that Freddie Lounds had been flirting with her, if only just a little. The question was simply whether she'd been doing it for her own personal gain, because she thought it would make Bev more likely to talk about Will, or because she genuinely had an interest in Bev herself.

Well, Bev thought, heading toward the stage, she would not allow herself to get sucked in so easily, if the latter case turned out to be the truth. Either way, she had to know, and she intended to find out that night. If Freddie was still there when she finished her performance, that was.

A few people exclaimed happily when they saw Bev walk out from backstage, violin in one hand and bow in the other—recognizing her, probably, from previous nights. She smiled widely at her audience, anticipation beginning to build in her chest. She truly did relish these nights.

As she took the cues from one of the stage managers for her sound check, she took a closer look at the crowd. Curiously, the first person she saw was the oboe player, Kelly, who shot her an encouraging smile. Moving on, she saw Will, who looked quite content with Hannibal Lecter's hands resting lightly on his hips. Will wasn't looking at Bev, in fact, it looked like his eyes were closed, and he was leaning his head back onto Hannibal's shoulder as the doctor murmured something in his ear. Bev made a mental note to ask Will what that was all about later on.

And then, finally, her eyes were caught by the bright red hair of her earlier conversation partner. Freddie had gone back to the bar, apparently, because she had a fresh drink in her hand—a bloody Mary, by the looks of it. Catching Bev's eye, she raised it in a mock salute before taking a sip. Beverly had to stop herself from laughing out loud as her sound check ended and she lowered her violin.

The crowd went silent, and Bev felt her body tingle, from a mixture of the excitement of performing and joy brought on by the knowledge that Freddie was watching her. “Up next,” the emcee announced, “you may have seen her here before: a vastly talented violinist whom we love to see on our stage again and again: Beverly Katz!” There was a smattering of applause and appreciative noises from the people who knew her, and then silence fell again as Bev raised her violin again and placed her bow on the strings.

She counted off in her head, setting the beat, and then began to play her piece. It was the Chairman's Waltz from Memoirs of a Geisha, one of Bev's favorite films. She'd had to rework it a bit so that she could play it without accompaniment, but thankfully, she'd taken plenty of composition classes while studying the violin and thought she'd done a rather good job with it, while still maintaining the integrity of the original piece, of course.

Freddie faded to the back of her mind as she played, focusing instead on the movements of her fingers, the sweep of the bow, the subtle differences in the transitions between various notes. Her attention was rooted to the music printed in front of her as she turned it into melodious reality, filling the silent room with the waltz.

She held her vibrato on the last high note, letting it fade naturally as she reached the tip of the bow. After she finished, there was a beat of quiet before the applause broke out. Bev lowered her violin and smiled appreciatively as she got her own share of whistles and “Yeah!”'s. She even heard Will holler “Alright, Bev!”, which meant that he'd been paying attention after all, not just basking in his doctor's attention. Bev looked over to wink at him, and he grinned at her, clapping his hands together. Hannibal Lecter was applauding as well, and gave her a smile of his own when she caught his eye.

Next, of course, Beverly had to seek out Freddie Lounds. The redhead had put her drink down on a nearby table and was clapping, still not with any real enthusiasm, but at least it looked like she meant it. Her face was set in a serious, unreadable expression.

A little disappointed, Bev gave her a benign glance and backed off the stage. She packed up her violin, said hello to the next performer to go on—a handsome keyboard player who went by the unusual and rather unfortunate name of Craven, whom Bev had seen once or twice before—and headed back out into the main part of the club, trying to figure out on the way how she could head in Freddie's direction without being too obvious about it.

The night was, after all, still young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely recommend giving "The Chairman's Waltz" a listen. It's lovely!


	6. Pineapple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a teacher, and today I had to give my students a test. While they were taking it, I wrote fanfiction, like the professional I am. This new chapter is part of the result.  
> -Julia

Beverly wove her way through the crowd, violin case in hand, smiling graciously at all the people who praised her performance and patted her on the back. She approached Will, who hugged her and told her what a lovely job she'd done, and Dr. Lecter (whose hand never left the small of Will's back throughout the entire conversation) offered her a sober nod and a congratulations, which from him, Bev suspected, was high praise.

After talking to Will and Hannibal, Beverly turned around, mentally begging the universe to show her that Freddie Lounds was still there...and sure enough, there she was, leaning against the wall, watching Craven onstage with a critical eye. Beverly's heart leapt. So she hadn't left.

Beverly headed for the bar, where the bartender called out to her, offering her a free drink for her performance. Beverly smiled at him and requested a pineapple mojito. Upon receiving it, she headed in Freddie's direction.

Freddie nodded at her as she approached, sipping her own drink. “Nice work up there,” she commented. “Very impressive.” Her voice was dry but not sarcastic.

Beverly grinned. “Thanks. Did I rock your world?”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“I see you did take my drink recommendation, though,” Beverly remarked, nodding towards Freddie's still half-full bloody Mary.

Freddie shrugged. “You weren't wrong about my penchant for vodka. Will you buy my next one?” Her eyes were a little playful now.

Beverly pretended to be exasperated. “I already bought you a Sprite!”

“Yeah, and I'm sure _that_ was _so_ expensive.”

“It's the principle of the thing.”

Freddie grinned, and it actually looked genuine. “Whatever you say.” She took another sip of her drink, and Beverly noticed that the strap from her camera was still fastened around her wrist.

“How about letting me see your pictures of Will?” Beverly asked, jerking her chin toward the strap.

Freddie cocked an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

Beverly shrugged. “I'm curious.”

Freddie's hand clenched on her camera, a movement so small it almost looked involuntary. “I don't think so, Katz,” she said, a slight, barely perceptible tremor in her voice. “You can see them on my blog later, if you're really so interested.”

Bev frowned at her for a moment, contemplating, then reached out and swiped the camera from her hand in one smooth motion, whipping around to look at it. “This really is a video camera, isn't it?” she asked as she pulled up the menu on the little screen.

“No!” Freddie cried. “Give it back!” She was reaching around Bev, grabbing for the camera, but Bev was too quick for her. As soon as the file opened that contained the pictures, starting with the last one Freddie had taken, Bev froze. The first photo wasn't of Will at all. It was of her. Standing on the stage, violin under her chin, bowing upwards, her body leaning into the instrument. Stunned, Bev swiped to the next photo. Her again, from a different angle. Next photo. Her again. She wondered for a moment how she hadn't noticed that she was being photographed.

“Give me the fucking camera,” Freddie snarled, in front of Bev now, holding out her hand. Bev was too startled to do anything but obey. She gave the camera back to Freddie, and the other woman shoved it into her purse. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“It was the...art of the thing,” Freddie said by way of explanation, making a show of studying her hands. “Not for the blog, you understand, just...good photos. Fuck, Katz, I don't know, you look good when you play. Sue me.” She shrugged irritably.

Beverly could only stare at her. “Yeah. I...I get it,” she said. “Um...thanks?”

“Whatever.” Freddie tossed her hair. “But if you _ever_ swipe my shit without my permission again, I will make you regret it. Got that?”

“I do,” Beverly said. “I'm sorry, that was wrong of me.”

It had been wrong, and she knew it, but she couldn't honestly say that she regretted it.

Because now she knew that Freddie had taken pictures of her, and she'd done it because she thought she looked good.

Another awkward silence stretched between them, during which Freddie stirred her drink and Beverly plucked the pineapple off the rim of her glass. She noticed that the slice of fruit, instead of having part of the inedible rind on it, as a pineapple garnish usually would, was pure yellow. It made her remember how sexy Freddie had looked when she'd taken the lime from her Sprite and sucked on it.

Beverly glanced surreptitiously at Freddie's lips, which were pursed in thought. The color in her cheeks was high—from embarrassment, perhaps?

Beverly's fingers trembled slightly on the pineapple slice...and then she made her choice.

“Hey Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

“You like pineapple?”

Freddie raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?” she said again.

“If you'd like to share mine,” Beverly said, “you can. But there's a catch.”

“Which is?”

In response, Beverly popped the pineapple slice into her mouth—halfway.

It only took Freddie a moment to catch on. An incredulous smile spread across her face. “What is this, Lady and the Tramp?”

Beverly shrugged.

“I knew you were flirting with me.”

Beverly didn't respond. She just kept standing there, mouth open, pineapple on offer. Freddie's disbelieving expression turned into a real smile—a bit predatory, but real all the same. She leaned close to Beverly. “You're going to buy me another drink,” she said softly, and then opened her mouth, only to close her lips again around the pineapple. Beverly bit down, and Freddie's lips touched hers, lingering for a few seconds before they separated, each with a bit of pineapple in their mouth. Together, the two women chewed and swallowed, staring at each other.

Beverly's mouth tingled with a combination of acidic pineapple juices and the coolness of Freddie's mouth. Tantalizingly, Freddie licked her lips as she watched Beverly, then drank some more of her bloody Mary. “My next drink,” Freddie said casually, “had better have fruit on the side. Because I'm going to have you do the same thing I just did.”


	7. Culmination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'd kind of abandoned this story for a long time, but I recently decided that I needed to come back and finish it. Get ready for some smut!

Freddie was true to her word, and their next kiss—around a sliver of honeydew melon from something called Passionfruit Punch—was more than just a touch of lips. It was a real, honest-to-goodness, proper smooch. Freddie let her mouth linger on Beverly's, pushed against her lips, then finished it off with a pleasantly unambiguous brush of her tongue. The only thing that kept Beverly from grabbing her and starting a full-on makeout session was the fact that Will was still in the club. 

Freddie was smiling at her mischeviously when they broke apart, and Beverly grinned in response, feeling a wave of pure joy course through her. She could barely believe how well this was going. Freddie was interested. In her! 

_Don't screw it up, Katz, whatever you do,_ Beverly thought. Slowly, holding Freddie's gaze, acting on instinct, she ran her tongue over her lips. 

Freddie's eyes widened. Evidently, she was receptive to classic seduction techniques. “You're such a goddamn tease,” she said under her breath. 

“Don't speak too soon. The night is young.” 

Freddie quirked an amused eyebrow. “That it is.” 

They'd ordered another round of drinks when Beverly saw what she'd been hoping to see for fifteen minutes: Will leaving the club, accompanied by his handsome doctor. He caught Bev's eye and waved cheerfully, cutting his eyes dramatically in Dr. Lecter's direction. Beverly grinned widely and gave him a thumbs-up sign as Dr. Lecter placed a possessive hand on his back and steered him toward the exit. 

As soon as the couple disappeared, Beverly turned back to Freddie, who was wearing a knowing smile. Unable to take it anymore, Beverly lunched and clutched at her, pressing their mouths together hard. 

Freddie responded with wonderfully desperate enthusiasm, grabbing onto the back of Beverly's head and pulling her roughly closer. Their tongues tangled together, and it was fucking fantastic. Even in Beverly's imagination it hadn't been this good. 

Freddie's hands gripped Beverly's hair, pulling on it. Beverly reached up to cup the other woman's neck, changing the angle of their kiss, tasting cool, fruit-flavored alcohol and enjoying the absolute hell out of it. Freddie broke the kiss with a final swipe of her tongue, then pulled back to stare at Beverly, her pupils huge with lust. Beverly's groin ached in sympathy; she could just imagine touching every perfect inch of Freddie's body, making her moan and whimper, playing her like she did her violin. 

And God, she wanted it. 

Freddie licked her lips, imitating Bev's gesture from earlier. She leaned close to Bev and, with her mouth nearly touching Bev's ear, whispered “I want you.” 

The phrase, mixed with the roughness of Freddie's voice, made Beverly shiver. Freddie pulled back, and Beverly hissed “yes”, staring into the green eyes before her. 

Freddie grinned in triumph. “Your place or mine?” 

Bev returned the grin. “Yours. Can't let a nosy blogger like you in on all my secrets just yet.” 

“Oh,” Freddie said, “I'm going to find out a lot of your secrets tonight.” 

Beverly nodded in agreement. “I don't doubt it. Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Whatever inhibitions Freddie had retained seemed to vanish as soon as they left the club. She'd agreed with very little protest to take Beverly to her place, called a taxi, and held Beverly close while they waited for it outside. When they were sitting inside the warm, close car and Freddie had given the driver her address, the dirty talk began. 

“The moment I saw you I knew you wanted to fuck me,” Freddie whispered into Beverly's ear, her right hand resting on the other woman's thigh and her curls brushing against Beverly's cheek. 

“And yet you came over anyway,” Beverly replied softly. 

“How could I not?” Freddie's voice was low and husky, and it was sending shivers down Bev's spine. “Do you have any idea how fucking _edible_ you look with those legs of yours? And when you were playing...God, Katz. All I could think about were those musician fingers of yours inside me.” 

Beverly leaned her head back against the seat. “Oh, God, you've been holding out on me,” she accused. “I'd never have even guessed that you wanted me.”   
Freddie's eyes flashed in the darkness. “After tonight,” she said, “you'll have no reason to doubt it.”

* * *

 

Freddie was right. She was sure and unrelenting when she pushed Bev against the wall in her small flat and kissed her, mouth open, hands already sliding under her shirt. Beverly pulled her closer, latched onto her hair, ground their hips together. Freddie gasped and moaned “off”, tugging at Beverly's shirt. Beverly raised her arms, letting Freddie pull her shirt off and then kissing her again, fierce and powerful and perfect. 

Freddie's shirt came off next, followed by both of their bras, and Beverly was struck dumb for a moment by the beauty of the other woman's breasts. She reached for them, and had barely got her hands on them when Freddie bent suddenly down to lick at her right nipple. 

“Oh!” Beverly gasped, and dug her nails into Freddie's bare back. Freddie's mouth moved up to suck at Beverly's neck. “Bedroom,” she hissed against her skin. Beverly needed no convincing. 

They stumbled the short distance to Freddie's bedroom, undoing the clasps and zippers on each other's pants as they went. They kicked off their shoes and fell onto the bed, divesting themselves quickly of socks and pants. Freddie dove on top of Beverly as soon as the task was completed, kissing her and pressing their bodies together, both of them clad only in their underwear. 

Beverly moaned as she slipped her hands under the hem of Freddie's panties and pushed. Freddie let her slide them off, kicking them onto the floor, before helping Beverly remove hers. Now they were both naked, moving their hands all over each other, mouths occupied with kisses, their eyes lustful and their breathing impatient. 

“God,” Beverly groaned between kisses, running her hands over Freddie's ass. “You are so...gorgeous.” 

“You haven't seen anything yet,” Freddie said with a smirk. She reached for Beverly's hand and kissed the back of it. “I told you I wanted your fingers inside me.” 

“I remember,” Beverly said breathlessly. 

“So why aren't they there yet?” 

Beverly grinned and, with a sudden surge of strength, flipped Freddie onto her back and got on top of her. She spread her legs, grinding herself against Freddie's thigh, needing some sort of friction, feeling her wetness spread onto Freddie's skin. She slid her fingers seductively into her mouth, holding eye contact with Freddie as she sucked on them. 

Freddie groaned. “Like I said,” she muttered, “you're a tease.” 

Beverly slowly took her fingers, now wet with saliva, out of her mouth, and smiled. “Not always,” she said, and touched Freddie with her fingers. 

Freddie nearly jerked her off the bed as Beverly gently began to work at her most sensitive area, easily finding her clitoris and massaging it. Freddie moaned loudly and scrambled to grab some part of Beverly, sinking her fingers into the other woman's thighs. Beverly leaned over and, as she continued to work Freddie with her hand, began to kiss her breasts, sucking on the nipples and scraping lightly with her teeth. 

“Jesus Christ,” Freddie hissed under her breath. “Oh...Bev...” 

“Mmmm,” was Beverly's only response, her lips against Freddie's skin, her fingers working her open. Slowly, she slid a finger inside Freddie. Freddie gasped and groaned, and Bev added another finger. 

“Oh God,” Freddie moaned. “Holy...oh, _yes,_ yes, Bev....yes....” 

Beverly slid her first two fingers in and out, occasionally stroking the sides of Freddie's opening with her third finger, keeping up the friction on Freddie's clitoris with her thumb. Freddie's whole body reacted, spasming under her, her breath repeatedly catching in pleasure. When Bev glanced up, she saw that Freddie was biting her lip. 

“Come for me, beautiful,” Bev whispered against Freddie's breast. “Let me feel you come.” 

“Oh...yes,” Freddie answered, and as Bev continued to finger her, she suddenly jerked and made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a scream, her upper body coming off the bed as she orgasmed around Beverly's hand. 

Freddie Lounds undone was a beautiful sight, Beverly thought, as she slowly removed her fingers from Freddie's body, but she only had a brief moment to appreciate it before Freddie was back on her, kissing her lips and rubbing two fingers forcefully against Bev's clitoris. “My turn,” she murmured, manuevering so that she was once again the one on top. Beverly didn't protest; she just let herself fall back and enjoy as Freddie began kissing her all over, lips trailing from her neck to her breasts to her stomach. Beverly closed her eyes, half in arousal and half in disbelief when she felt Freddie mouthing at her vulva, her red hair tickling the insides of Bev's thighs. 

“Oh, Freddie,” Bev moaned as the other woman's tongue entered her, swirling around and ratcheting her arousal up higher, nearly to its tipping point. She pressed a hand to her forehead and bucked her hips as Freddie licked and sucked at her clitoris, as her tongue delved inside her once again. It felt spectacular, miraculous, and Bev could still barely believe it was happening. _“Ohhh,”_ she moaned, as Freddie executed a particularly splendid movement with her mouth. Bev pushed her fingers through Freddie's magnificent hair, held on as she came, riding out her orgasm with a shudder. 

When it was over, Freddie pulled back, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and moved up into Bev's embrace. They kissed slowly, softly, Beverly tasting herself on Freddie's lips, both spent, both relaxing into each other's arms. 

“God, Freddie,” Bev said softly. “That was amazing.” 

“I knew you'd be good,” Freddie said, “but damn. I've never been fingered so...efficiently.” 

Bev grinned and took a mock bow. Freddie pulled her closer and gave her a kiss on the neck. 

“You're not going to blog about this, are you?” Bev asked, nuzzling Freddie's cheek. 

“Not in detail,” Freddie replied with a grin. “My readers don't need to know exactly what goes on with my vagina. Though if you're worried about not getting a good review, don't. In fact, I wouldn't say no to a repeat performance, if you're amenable.” 

“Fuck yes,” Beverly answered. She kissed Freddie once again on the lips. “I'd be honored to be invited back to this venue.” 

“Would you be available for matinee shows as well?” 

“I'll have to check my schedule, but I think we can work something out.”

“Good,” said Freddie, stifling a yawn, burying her face in Beverly's shoulder. “If you continue to impress, I might even make you a regular.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Thanks for reading, guys! It means a lot. Please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
